


Heroes & Thieves

by Anonymous



Category: Elementary (TV), Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 06:33:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5406647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal invites Sherlock and Joan to dinner. </p><p>Sherlock tries to prevent Joan from eating people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heroes & Thieves

**Author's Note:**

> Written when both of these shows were in season 1
> 
> Title from the song by Vanessa Carlton

They’ve only been waiting in the dining room for a few minutes when Sherlock stands up and impatiently announces he’s going to go see if Hannibal needs help in the kitchen. Before she can tell him to sit back down, he’s already halfway to the door. He ignores her, of course, and promptly collides with Hannibal in the doorway. The appetizer dishes Hannibal had been carrying fly everywhere. Sherlock scrambles to clean them up, waving Hannibal back to the kitchen to grab the entrees instead. Joan kneels down to help him.

“What was that?” she asks as soon as she thinks Hannibal is out of hearing range.

“Simple clumsiness, Watson,” he says, scooping up the spilled food. “An unfortunate accident.”

“Bullshit.” She places the stacked plates on the table and turns her glare straight at him. “You’re not clumsy.”

Before he can respond, Hannibal returns with three more plates of food and Joan and Sherlock return to their seats. Joan apologizes on Sherlock’s behalf, but Hannibal cuts her off. “Accidents happen,” he says, “no apology necessary.” She ignores the pointed look Sherlock gives her.

When Sherlock allows Hannibal to pour him a glass of wine, Joan glares at him but doesn’t say anything. She’s not a sober companion anymore, and he’s obviously up to something so she doubts her objections would provide any results. As soon as Hannibal sits down, Sherlock reaches for his water glass and manages to knock over his wine. Most of it splashes across the table to Joan’s plate, drenching her food. He launches into apologies as she tries to contain the wine threatening to drip over the edge of the table.

“Let me help,” he exclaims, jumping up and grabbing his own napkin. His efforts result not in a clean table, but in a knocked-over candle and a suddenly flaming tablecloth. (And if his own dish gets upended in the ensuing chaos, well, no one but Joan would find that suspicious.)

“At least there’s still dessert,” Sherlock says once they’ve beat out the fire. He smiles like this is all some grand adventure. Joan smiles like she’s deciding the best way to permanently maim him. She can’t do anything at the moment, however, because her hand is badly burned. His innocent expression doesn’t waver in the least as Hannibal hurries her down the hall to the bathroom and its first aid kit.

She reenters the dining room a few minutes later, flexing her fingers and examining her new bandage, to find Sherlock slamming the window closed.

“I was just getting some fresh air,” he explains when he sees her, leaning against the window awkwardly. “Bit smokey in here, isn’t it?”

“Indeed,” Hannibal agrees from behind her. “Perhaps we should have our final course in the kitchen.”

“Lead on,” Sherlock says, stupid grin back in place.

The kitchen is as neatly organized as the rest of the house, save a few drawers that have been left slightly open. It’s a small detail; she wouldn’t have noticed it before her time with Sherlock, but now she can’t ignore it. When Hannibal turns his back to them to get the dessert, she points at one of the open drawers accusingly and raises her eyebrows at Sherlock. He shrugs innocently. Before she can start silently lecturing him, Hannibal turns back to them. They both smile again automatically.

“Miss Watson, could you get some forks from that drawer?” he says.

“Of course. This one?”

“Yes.”

She pulls it open but makes no move to take anything out.

“Is there a problem, Miss Watson?” Hannibal asks after a moment.

“This drawer is empty,” she says, resisting the urge to stare daggers at Sherlock. “All your silverware’s gone.”


End file.
